


Price of Perfection

by reapertownusa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/M, Family, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Nudity, Torture, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapertownusa/pseuds/reapertownusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean creates a perfect world for his family, but it doesn't come without a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Price of Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Nothing especially explicit, but does contain a brief scene of dub-con group sex (het and slash), bondage and torture references.

Every day was perfect. After a lifetime of fighting tooth and nail just to take another breath, Dean was no longer afraid. There was no more worrying whether Sam would lose himself to darkness or if the darkness would take him first.

Sam no longer had to suffer through a life he never wanted. The worst pain Dean’s brother now had to contend with was paper cuts and waiting in line for lattes. Dean would tease him mercilessly about what a wuss he had become if he wasn’t so damn happy for it.

The warm early evening air rushed through the rolled down windows as the Impala shot down the highway. “Damn it, Dean, drive faster!” Sam called from the back seat.

A ridiculously large grin broke across Dean’s face. It was the first time Sam had ever said those words. Dean was more than happy to oblige. He let loose a victorious whoop, pumped his fist and gently fed more gas to his baby, sending her rocketing towards Lawrence Memorial Hospital.

With a glance into the rearview mirror Dean glimpsed Sam fussing over Jessica. Sam’s worried hand hovered over his wife’s swollen belly. Dean’s smile grew all the wider. The only thing missing was a proper soundtrack.

While Dean had plenty of songs in mind, Sam swore mullet rock terrified babies. That right there was proof of how ignorant his little brother was. Law degrees didn’t stand for crap without commonsense and good tastes. Dean still had it covered and shoved in The Beetles Again cassette.

“Eyes on the road,” Sam chastised.

“Shut up and sing, Sammy.” With a chuckle Dean turned up the radio. He took in a deep breath of the sweet summer night’s air before belting it out. “’Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better...’”

Their off key chorus was halfway through ‘Don’t let Me Down’ by the time the Impala swerved into the hospital parking lot. It wasn’t long before Jessica was in good hands and Sam was occupied pacing holes in the waiting room tile.

Dean sat kicked back in a vinyl chair with his feet propped up on a coffee table. Finally he tossed aside the Parenthood magazine he’d been flipping through and straightened up in his chair.

“You can sit down, Sammy. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Sam glanced up but kept walking back and forth between the fish tank and the table. “You don’t know that.”

With a quirk of his brow, Dean gave a knowing smirk. “Yeah, I do.”

Finally Sam stopped and stared at him, his face still wrinkled in concern. “How are you always so sure things are gonna turn out?”

“’Cause I’m your big brother.” Dean pushed for a smile from Sam. “Come on, you know I’m adorable.”

“Yeah, except for that ugly ass tattoo. Getting that had to be the stupidest thing you ever did.”

The grin momentarily fell from Dean’s lips. His hand reached up to cover what was actually a brand on his neck. It was already starting to ache like a son of a bitch. He glanced to his watch to make sure he still had time before looking back up to Sam.

“It could be worse.” At Sam’s questioning look, Dean shrugged it off. “At least Mom will stop harassing me about grandchildren.”

Sam sank into the chair beside Dean. “Was Bridget really that bad?”

“That blind date Mom set me up on? Dude.” It was Dean’s turn to stand and take a walk over to the fish tank. “Well, we could start with the fact her name was Bridget...”

“It’s not a blind date when you’d been drooling over the girl for months. What happened to sex first questions later?”

Dean watched the obscenely colorful fish dart in and out of the rocks, trapped in a damn tank when they should be out in the ocean. He knew the feeling.

“One of us had to grow up.”

“How is it that you of all people grew up to be afraid of girls?”

With a careful breath, Dean slapped a fake grin on his face and turned back to Sam. “Just afraid they’re gonna be like you.”

“Seriously, Dean. You two really hit it off. I just don’t get it.”

Dean nodded. While he could downplay it all he wanted, Bridget had been incredible. She was gorgeous, spunky and had a cassette collection that put his to shame. That girl was everything Dean could ask for and she deserved a hell of a lot better than him.

“This isn’t my life, Sam. I mean...you know - family. You guys are all the family I need.”

“Mr. Winchester?” Sam and Dean simultaneously turned their heads to look at the nurse. “Your wife is out of surgery and your baby girl is going to be just fine.”

“My baby girl...Dean, I’m a father!”

In an instant Sam was out of the chair and smiling from ear to ear. He threw his arms around Dean, swinging him around so quickly that Dean’s boots nearly left the ground. Dean gripped his oversized baby brother with an equal fierceness.

“I know, Sammy.” Dean’s eyes caught the wall-mounted clock and he squeezed his brother tighter before slapping him on the back and pulling away. “Now get in there and show them who’s daddy.”

“What?” The joy on Sam’s face faltered. “You’re not coming?”

“I’d love to...man, I’d really love to.”

“Then come on, Dean.”

“Can’t. You know...work. Besides, you and Jess should get some time alone before Mom and Dad show up. You’ll never be able to touch that kid again once Mom sees her. Let’s just hope she looks like her mom.”

“Jerk.” The smile on Sam’s face again became tentative as he looked over Dean. “You’re really okay?”

“Never been better. Really.” After another glance to the clock, Dean gave Sam a wave. “Now go on. I’ll catch you guys tomorrow. I’m expecting some serious quality time with my niece.”

Dean waited for Sam to disappear down the hallway before he walked quickly from the waiting room. Once he was back on the street he broke out into a jog. He glanced over his shoulder before slipping from view down the side alley. There wasn’t time for him to catch his breath before the echo of familiar footsteps closed in behind him.

Steeling himself, Dean turned towards the stony faced, robed man that looked centuries out of place. Dean had memorized every wrinkle on the son of a bitch’s face and he knew all too well every line beneath that robe.

With his eyes lowered, Dean dropped to his knees. He tilted his head to bare his neck to the man that now loomed directly over him. Dean’s body tensed with a knowing dread.

A cold hand raised goose bumps where it brushed over his skin, tracing his jugular before pressing firmly over his brand. The touch shot fire through his entire body while all but freezing his heart in his chest. It was by now a familiar sensation, but knowing the shock of pain was coming didn’t lessen it.

Around him everything bled away. By the time his convulsing body collapsed the cement beneath him was replaced by a cushion of moss. When his eyes could focus he saw the deep woods he spent every night in and the feet of the gathered coven. Knowing what was expected, he rose again to his knees and met the eyes of the man who had come for him.

“That child would have died without our intervention,” the man said.

Dean bowed his head. “I know.”

“Then you realize the payment of tonight’s debt will be extensive. You still wish to proceed with the arrangement?”

Every night they asked and every night he unflinchingly gave the same answer. His eyes shot up, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Do your worst.”

They no longer had to tell him what to do. Without shame he stripped bare and stepped into position. Heavy iron cuffs locked around his wrists and ankles, spreading him tightly between two trees both scarred with the same symbol that was seared into his neck.

Each coven member took their turn. Some together, some by themselves, all pushing his body past the point of ecstasy into agony. Soft breasts pressed against his chest while hard thrusts from behind forced him forward into women who were always the same but remained nameless.

When they moved on it was the pelting of jagged stones, slicing lashes of a birch branches or blunt blow from a gnarled staff. Tonight it would be all of the above and worse. Some nights his blood pooled into the earth beneath him others it was lost in scorching flames that blackened his flesh.

The first time around they had explained the how and the why. He didn’t give a crap. Either way it wasn’t Mom burning and it wasn’t Dad being tortured. They could tear and crush his body six ways from Sunday to draw out whatever sacrificial mojo they wanted. While his nerves were pushed beyond sensation he could still see the pure joy on his little brother’s face.

While the force of his own screams tore his throat to silence Sam would be with Mom and Dad, his beautiful wife and his baby girl. Tomorrow Dean would be with them too. He’d wake up whole again, at least in body.

Everyday was perfect. It was the nights that were hell.


End file.
